


Cabin Fever

by MistralAmara



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: F/M, Gen, Humor, Romance, Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-25
Updated: 2011-06-25
Packaged: 2017-10-20 17:13:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/215112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistralAmara/pseuds/MistralAmara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tarrant wants to spend an evening alone with Cally, but there's a certain someone standing (or rather, lying) in his way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cabin Fever

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nicola Mody (Vilakins)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vilakins/gifts).



She was heading back with another batch of booktapes when she met Tarrant coming the other way.

"Cally! I was hoping to see you."

She gave him a tired half-smile, but didn't stop. "It's not really a good time," she said.

He turned and fell into step beside her. "Well, when would be good, then? Because we haven't had any private time together in nearly four weeks."

"I can't be away from the medical unit while Vila is ill; you know that."

"Come on, you need a break. A couple of hours; Vila will be all right. We'll have a quiet, relaxing dinner in my cabin--I've still got one bottle of that Tinian sparkling wine that you liked so much."

They'd arrived outside the medical unit and Cally paused. "I can't." She laid a conciliatory hand against his chest. "As soon as Vila is well enough to be left alone, I promise."

Tarrant frowned. "I thought you said he'd be recovered by now."

"And I thought he would. But different strains of Dini fever have different recovery times. This one is taking longer than I expected. Another two weeks, at least."

"And you're certain he isn't faking it to avoid his duties?"

"I think five weeks of complete bed rest is more than even Vila could enjoy." As if in support of her claim, from beyond the door a plaintive voice called her name, startling her. "I'm sorry, I've got to go."

"And that's that?" Tarrant put out an arm to block her exit. "Cally, you've let him learn that he can get away with anything--just like a performing seal! He yelps and waves his flippers, and you come running."

Angry, she pulled away. "Does that make him the trained seal, or me? It's not very flattering, Del."

"I'm sorry, Cally, I didn't mean it like that. It's just that I miss you. And you know what Vila's like; I've never met anyone lazier. I'm sure he's just taking advantage."

Cally shook her head. "I miss you, too, but you're wrong." Another groan sounded from behind the door. "He's genuinely ill."

"He's malingering, and I'll prove it!"

Before she could react, he had pushed past her and into the medical unit. "Tarrant, no," she cried, but it was too late. She watched, aghast, as Tarrant strode across the room and yanked back the curtain that partitioned off one of the beds.

The form in the bed was barely recognizable as Vila. Its eyes swollen nearly shut, it was a splotchy mass of oozing purple sores just beginning to fade into a bruised yellow-green. Tarrant could do no more than stare in horror.

This time, it was Cally who groaned.

*

"Look up," said Cally, shining a light in Vila's eyes. "Yes, it's as I thought. The irises are completely clear. You're no longer contagious."

"I never thought I'd be so glad to be going back to work," said Vila, admiring his clear skin and healthy color in the medical unit's examination mirror.

"I've told Avon to only give you half shifts for the next week," replied Cally. "After so long in bed, you must build up to things gradually."

"Not a problem." Vila grinned. "Thanks." He hugged Cally tightly, then headed for the door and freedom. Halfway through, he turned back, a thoughtful but not entirely happy expression on his face. "Listen, if you need some help . . . I mean, you've been stuck here as long as I have . . . well, just call if you want a break. Now that I'm immune, and all."

"Thank you, Vila." Cally smiled at him. "I'll be fine."

Vila looked relieved. "Right, then. See you." He made good his escape, and the door closed behind him.

Cally crossed the room and pulled back a curtain. The bed's occupant looked up sullenly at her through swollen eyelids. The pustules that covered him were a shining, moist purple, nearly ready to burst.

"Don't fret, Del," she said. "Now that Vila's well, we can have plenty of that time alone that you wanted."

Slowly, painfully, Tarrant turned and faced the wall.

-End-

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for Nicola Mody (Vilakins) during a round of LiveJournal ficlet challenges. Her requests were: 1) Cally and Tarrant; 2) the title, 'Cabin Fever'; and 3) the line, "Just like a performing seal!"


End file.
